Dear Diary
by martinskki
Summary: Maya Hart painted pictures on canvases, everyone knew this. What everyone didn't know was that she also painted pictures on lined paper in a secret diary that not a single soul other than her own has ever seen.
1. I Gave Him Up

I saw him first. The boy on the train. The day Riley decided she was just like me, the day her lips turned kiwi. We were just seventh graders.

I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to feel wanted, to feel like the kind of girl she wanted to be. So I gave him up. I had my ten second first date with him, my ten second-long trip through the clouds, then I gave him up to my wide-eyed best friend.

That day, I only thought of him as cute. I had no idea that he was so kind, or loyal, or that he fidgeted with his pen when he was nervous. I didn't know that his favorite color was blue, or that he treated his friends like family. I was unaware of his Texas background, or his ability to make you feel like you're at home when you talk to him. He was just the cute boy on the subway.

But now he's more than that. Oh, he's so much more than that. He's not just cute anymore, he's beautiful, and when I look at him it's like a flock of hummingbirds take flight in my stomach. He is where I go when I feel paper thin. I break on him, and he helps me rearrange the pieces into something better than I was before. Even when I can't find the words to ask for advice, he knows exactly what to say. I go to him empty, and he helps me help myself feel whole again. He doesn't complete me; I do that. He just makes it easier to find the strength to. He doesn't make me feel warm, and bright, and happy, he IS warmth, and light, and joy, and I am so lucky to know him.

And now I want to be happy. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel like the kind of girl I want to be.

But I gave him up. Before I truly knew him, I let my best friend fall into his lap, and fall for him, openly. She got to love him in front of everybody; something I've never gotten the privilege to experience. She loves him, there's no question about that, but not in the way I do; not in the way I could.

But I gave him up.


	2. I Can Not Fly Away

Today in science class, I learned about monarch butterflies. I learned that they're the only butterflies that migrate like birds do. I learned that they are considered the "king of butterflies", and the most beautiful.

I found myself wishing I was a monarch butterfly. I pictured myself escaping to somewhere warm for the winter, away from all of the chaos in the cold. I sat in class imagining myself covered in shades of orange and yellow, carelessly flapping my wings, letting the wind carry me where it pleased.

Then I remembered my best friend, and how she needed someone to keep her warm in the cold months. I could not fly away.

I remembered him, and the look on his face when I told him how happy I was that he was next to me on that rooftop. I could not fly away.

Oh, but I still want to. Because this is all so confusing, and so, so, overwhelming, and I want it, no, I NEED it to all just stop. I need to just fly away, if only for a few days, to collect my thoughts and organize my feelings into their designated boxes.

But I'm afraid that feelings don't fit into storage containers, and none of this will stop until we're all bursting at the seams. I'm afraid that we will all end up with the wrong people, and we will be so tired that we won't bother fixing it, and we will be doomed.

I'm afraid that none of us truly know what we want, and we're all just acting out of fear of losing one another. I'm afraid that I've been faking my feelings, though I'm not sure how I can fake my heart skipping a beat when his eyes meet mine, or every inch of my skin lighting on fire when his fingers brush against my arm.

As terrified as I am that all of this is fake, I think I am most afraid of the fact that deep down, I know it's real. I know that this bubbling in my chest when I'm around him isn't just a switch I flicked all of sudden. I know that this stain has been on my heart since the first time I spoke to him. I know that it can not be erased, no matter how desperately I scrub at it.

I wish it wasn't, but at the same time, I'm glad it is. This is scary, and confusing, and complicated, but I feel more alive than I ever have.

I can not fly away.


	3. I Believe In The Universe

I've tried painting it. I've tried writing our words to each other that night over and over, scribbling them out in a new way each time, and hoping they would disappear from my brain like they did from the paper. I've attempted to drown my memory of that moment in music, suffocating it in high notes and melodies and lyrics about not needing him. But nothing works. Our frozen moment in time next to that flickering fire haunts me like the best kind of nightmare. The kind that's scary, but isn't really a nightmare at all.

It was a dream. His hands cupped around my face, his thumbs stroking my temples, his fingers in my hair, his lips threatening mine. It was a dream I kept to myself. A secret, quiet dream that I would only dwell on when I was alone, and away from anyone to ask questions or pass judgement.

Except now it's not just a dream. It's reality. A very real, very scary, very life-coming-off-its-hinges-and-flipping-upside-down scenario that plays in my mind on a constant loop like one of those stupid videos Zay shows us in class every day. Those drive me crazy. So is this.

It was months ago. It's been months since he's been that close to me for that long, months since I figured out what it was like to actually hear the universe shift into place. It's been months since I realized why my favorite artists are always comparing people's eyes to the sky, and the ocean, and saying they gave them hope. I never understood how something so unknown could feel so much like home until I saw my explanation staring back at me.

I believe the universe is watching, and listening, and working to make things happen, and I have proof of it. So universe, if you're paying attention to me at all right now, if you ever pay attention to me again, please just hear this one thing: I need him. I need all of them, so please, whatever you decide to do with this, make sure all of the pieces stay in tact. You can move them around, do whatever you want with them, but please don't let my puzzle have a missing spot. My heart can't bear to lose another piece.


	4. I Was Abandoned

I told the universe I needed them. I told the universe that my one wish, if I never got a wish again, was that we all stayed together.

Was I not clear enough? Did my message get lost in the stars? Is the universe done with me? I do not know. All I know is that I will never trust the universe with my dreams again.

They left. Riley was too optimistic, too kind hearted, too trusting-three things that there should never be a limit to-and it ran them away. She saw the good in people. I saw the good in her. So I stayed. And maybe she isn't completely right this time; maybe the friends that left are. But it doesn't matter who's right. It matters that we're friends, the best friends this stupid universe has ever seen, and despite all of this, I still believe that comes before being right.

So I am going to sit in that dumb hole with Riley again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, until we either learn the profound lesson she thinks these seniors are trying to teach us, or our friends pull us out of it.

They'll come back. They have to. Matthews will gather us in his classroom, tie this into some lesson about a war I've never heard of, and they'll come back. We're us. They have to come back.

I don't know who or what I'll wish to now. Maybe I'll attach my dreams to a different star every night, creating a constellation of hope. Maybe I'll pray more, finally bugging God about me for once. Or maybe they'll come back, and the universe abandoning me won't matter, and I won't have to wish on anything at all.


End file.
